


In the Darkness

by Babenclaw



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Sexy things, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-02-19
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:09:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5835673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babenclaw/pseuds/Babenclaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sexual tension between best friends, one self-loathing and one oblivious. </p><p>A tale of discovery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

Riku loved a lot of things about Sora. If Riku was fond of making lists—which he wasn’t—he could probably fill at least five pages with his neat, cramped handwriting as he wrote about the way Sora’s smile could and would light up a room and, more importantly, his heart. He could talk about the strange grace Sora held himself with, the grace of a fighter who knew his body unfailingly well. He could talk about Sora’s hair, spiky and strangely, comfortingly soft, or Sora’s nails, always bitten short but a healthy pale pink, or the way Sora’s nose would crinkle up right before he sneezed, or how Sora would dig his toes deep into seashell sand, burrowing beneath the firey top layer in search of the cool, damp layer underneath, or the way he looked silhouetted against the island sunset, his hands behind his neck and a soft, honest smile on his face. If Riku was the kind to talk about himself and the things he loved—which he wasn’t—he could go on about Sora forever, because he loved Sora .

Luckily for people around Riku, he wasn’t that type. He preferred keeping those memories close to his heart, clutched deep inside his chest like a hidden treasure, unfit for any eyes but his own. He was only allowed to peek at those small jewels in the dim half-light of his own room, with curtains pulled and moonlight spilling through the cracks. In that half-light, Riku was free to let his memories twist and grow, free to let his imagination wander.  In the sunlight, Riku was Sora’s best friend, free to admire from a distance and up close as long as he never, ever touched. In the moonlight, though…

In the dark, Riku was free to be whatever his heart wanted. Mostly his heart wanted Sora. In the quiet, where he could imagine without shame, he wondered what it would feel like to run a finger down Sora’s spine, wondered if the boy would arch into the touch or squirm under the calloused pads or purr in quiet pleasure. Riku could imagine holding Sora’s face gently between his palms, imagine resting his forehead against Sora’s and breathe in shared air, imagine watching lapis eyes darken in desire, pupils blown so wide there was only a sliver of too-bright, too-intense blue, burrowing its way under Riku’s skin and into his bones and burning, cold and hot and too much.

Riku was free to wonder what Sora’s skin would taste like against his lips, wonder if Sora would taste of something mundane like salt, wonder if he would be able to taste the light beneath his skin. Riku would curl beneath his bedcovers, bury his face in his pillow to hide the way his breathing would slow and deepen at the thought. In the comforting, surrounding blackness beneath the cover, Riku was free to close his eyes and imagine Sora, the way he curled up in his sleep, catlike but with some part of him always moving. He was free to imagine the way heat poured off Sora in waves, warming everybody around him. Riku’s fingers twitched against his bedsheets, wanting to touch Sora, touch something, feel skin tense beneath sensitive fingers. Riku could imagine, imagine a world where they spent nights pressed together, where Riku would wake from nightmares to gentle words and promises and light, light, light.

Riku was free to pretend the humid warmth beneath the covers was from two bodies rather than one, his fingers losing the fight and twisting gently into the hem of his own shirt. He imagined the sound of Sora’s voice, low and intimate in his ear with hot hot breath ghosting its way around the shell of his ear and down his neck. Riku shivered and buried his face deeper into his own pillow, not wanting his own sounds to touch the imagined words. In the moment, in the comforting darkness beneath his blankets, the same blankets he’d slept under since the day he turned ten years old, he could imagine the feeling of Sora pressing into him, imagine the lean muscle beneath his fingertips was Sora’s, that the quiver was Sora’s anticipation.

Riku could never decide how Sora would react. Sometimes, in these imaginations—Riku refused to consider them fantasies, though that was what they were—Sora would be shy and meek and flush under Riku’s tenderest caresses. Other times, Sora was confident and sure, leading Riku down, down, down in a spiral of pleasure and kisses. Most times, Sora fell somewhere in between— shy but eager, more than willing to touch and be touched, his competitive nature surfacing through his embarrassment.

Tonight, though, tonight Sora was shy and gentle. Riku imagined the way the boy would squirm and flush and try to hide his face as Riku explored his chest so very gently, alabaster fingers catching on pink nipples and drawing a quiet gasp from Sora’s (Riku’s) throat. Riku rolls onto his side, burying his face fully in the pillow beneath him, losing himself in the way his breath comes in pants.

He does not do this often. As soon as the high leaves, the low sets in and Riku will lay in his rapidly cooling bed, sweaty and sated and hating himself for thinking of his friend in such base ways. But in the moment, all Riku was aware of was the uncomfortable tightness of his sleep pants and the way the heat continued to build under his navy blankets. His hips rocked gently as he whined into his pillow, imagining that instead of feathers and fabric, his face was buried into the warm, damp skin of Sora’s neck. Gentle, hesitant fingers moved downwards along his flushed chest, tracing lines of fire across flexed muscles and down to the waistband of his sweatpants. Teeth found purchase on the inside of his cheek in a vain attempt to muffle the quiet noises that spilled from him as his cool fingers slipped beneath the fabric and wrapped around his hardness. Riku’s breath escaped him in a violent hiss, his eyes clenched shut against the darkness as his hips gently rocked.

Riku kept his movements gentle, whimpering quiet sounds into his pillowcase. His skin was overwarm, sweat sticking his sleep shirt to his heaving chest. His eyes clenched shut as he rolled onto his stomach, rolling his hips into the bed beneath him and imagining a warm body beneath his own, hot breath and gentle sighs, calloused fingers pressing between his shoulder blades and burrowing into silver hair. The coil in his stomach tightens at the thought, a ragged moan escaping from between tight lips. Each twist of Riku’s wrist and rock of his hips pushes him just a bit closer, the voice in his mind calling out to him, pulling him forward toward that tempting, delicious edge in the distance.

Precum slicks his movements, easing the friction from his hands into something delightful and red-hot. His breath comes faster as he tries to ignore the way his muscles shudder, the way his stomach tightens and his shoulders tense. He knows his body, knows to recognize the signs of impending release. He bites down on the pillow in lieu of slick, tan skin, and he moans softly into its fabric. Riku barely has the presence of mind to roll back onto his back, reach for a tissue, before he’s coming around a choked gasp and a name. His back arches, his hips seeking as he slowly pumps himself through the aftershocks. A few more lazy twists of his wrist and he’s finished, sated and gasping quietly for air in the dark of his room, his sweat already cooling where his chest is free from the blankets. Slowly, reluctant to release the image in his head, Riku opens aquamarine eyes to take in the dark of his room. He throws the tissue away in a wastebasket nearby, his heart still pounding away in his chest.

In the morning, he’ll be ashamed of what he’s done. He’ll wash his sheets and take his trash out and try to pretend his best friend is only his best friend. But for now, he’ll roll over and fall asleep easily, content, and dream of chocolate hair and lapis lazuli eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god I'm so embarrassed I can't believe I'm publishing this. I wrote porn. I wrote porn and now I'm sharing porn what have I become someone stop me.


	2. Chapter 2

Sora was a lot of things, but observant was probably not the top of his list. Being observant included a lot of complicated things, and he preferred to grab at life with both hands and a sunny smile.

If he was observant, he might’ve noticed the signs of his crush sooner. He would have noticed the way his heart pounded when Riku rested a hand on his shoulder. He might have realized that the way his stomach twisted when Riku smiled meant more than he thought. As it was, though, he was not observant and so he continually excused away any sign of attraction as friendship and excitement that his best friend was back at last.

This mindset worked well for Sora, and he coasted easily through weeks of routine on the island, laughing with Kairi and supporting Riku and reveling in being home. They spent their days wandering the island, eating ice cream and swimming in the ocean— Sora’s swim trunks no longer fit him so he just stole Riku’s old ones, ignoring the way his heart sort of leapt at the idea of wearing anything of Riku’s- and Sora, dizzy with sunlight and saltwater and friendship, wished they could stay this way forever.

Of course, nothing stays the same forever.

He said goodbye to Kairi in front of his house, giving her one of his traditional Sora hugs, before waving and heading inside with Riku. Riku hadn’t stayed the night since… well, since the storm, he supposed, but he tried not to think too much about that terrible, awful night. He tried not to think about a lot of things. He closed and locked the door behind them, hitting the lights to face an empty house.

“You hungry?” Sora asked Riku as he slipped past him into the kitchen. His still-damp feet made soft sounds against the floor as he rummaged around in the fridge for two bottles of water. He tossed Riku one. “We’ve got plenty of food.”

Riku shrugged, seating himself at the table. “I could eat.”

Sora, busy pulling out the ingredients for sandwiches, laughed. “When can you not?”

“About as often as you,” Riku responded. He popped the cap on his water bottle and took a sip, watching Sora make his way around the kitchen. Sora ignored the eyes on his back as he put both sandwiches on plates, pouring some chips next to them and carrying both plates over. The two of them ate in a companionable silence, occasionally kicking each other under the table and teasing each other. Just like old times. If Sora tried hard enough, he could imagine the way things were before darkness and jealousy and a whole buch of other unnamed emotions wedged their way between them, trying to drive them to opposite ends of the earth.

Sora was really good at ignoring the things in front of him when he wanted to be.

In fact, Sora successfully ignored the current beneath his skin well into the evening. He ignored the way Riku would twitch when Sora touched his knee during the movie. He ignored the uncomfortable warmth curling at the base of his spine when Riku exited his bathroom, chest bare and damp from his shower. He ignored the way his heart lifted when he hit the lights and listened to Riku’s breathing quicken at the darkness, then slowly even out. He ignored the shifting sounds of another body so close to his own as Riku made himself comfortable on the air mattress, quickly falling still with sleep.

When everything was still, though, he could not ignore the urge to see him.

Sora sat up and carefully tugged at his curtains, letting in just a sliver of moonlight from outside, just enough light to pierce the darkness in his room. He watched the pale streak of moonlight fall across Riku’s face, lighting up his own silver hair. Sora stared at him for a while, enraptured and trying to understand the strange feeling in his chest, the tightness there, before shrugging it off. The curtains were allowed to fall back into place. Sora sighed, rolled away from the window, and fell asleep to the familiar sounds of his best friend breathing.

When Sora awoke, groggy and shivery, it was to a number of sudden and jarring realizations. His first was that it must still be very early in the morning. Sora had grown accustomed to waking up with the sun while on his travels. Each planet only had so much daylight. Even with that, though, Riku was always awake before him. Sora could still hear his even breaths from the mattress next to him. His second was that he was suffocating a little bit. He kicked the thin sheet off of his body, reveling in the cool air against his sweat-slicked skin. He felt hyperaware of every breath of air in the room, which was strange but not unpleasant. His third was that he was uncomfortably hard, straining against the boxers he wore to sleep and staining the fabric slightly with liquid. This in itself was not unusual for Sora. He saw nothing wrong with it happening and was more than happy to take care of it. His fourth, and by far largest problem was that Riku’s mattress took up most of Sora’s bedroom floor. Sora saw no way around the mattress in the dark without awakening Riku and alerting him to Sora’s, ah, predicament.

Sora groaned silently and rolled onto his back, shifting his hips uncomfortably as the fabric of his boxers rubbed against him. There was no way he could fall asleep like this. What if something happened in his sleep? What if Riku woke up and noticed? Sora would never survive the embarrassment.

He would just have to be quiet.

Sora licked his lips and rolled onto his side, facing toward the window. Something about touching himself like this with his best friend in the room felt weird to Sora, but what was he supposed to do? It would take forever for his body to calm down on its own.

Sora slowly, hesitantly slipped his hand under the waistband of his boxers, his fingers resting cupped around his hipbone. He ignored the way his heart pounded at the idea of being caught with his hand down his pants. His fingers teased their way across his skin, lightly brushing down his length as his breath escaped him in a near silent hiss. He’d have to be quick.

Sora’s teeth found purchase in his lower lip as he wrapped his fingers around himself, relieved to finally have firm pressure against himself. He stroked himself slowly, trying to listen for any sign of Riku waking. He couldn’t hear Riku’s breathing over the sound of his pulse pounding in his head, so he would just have to be hopeful.

His thumb grazed across his slit and Sora’s hips jerked, almost involuntarily. The only thing keeping him from moaning was the pain of teeth in his lower lip. He rolled onto his back again, settling against the pillows with his eyes closed as he slowly pumped himself. His breathing deepened as pleasure rolled through his body, his hips lightly rocking with the motion of his hand.

Almost all worry of being caught bled from Sora’s mind as he reveled in the slow burn of his own touch, the tightness surrounding him. It was hard to focus on such mundane thoughts when pleasure was boiling just beneath his skin, coiling in his stomach and forcing him to press his lips together to muffle his sounds, his gasps and his sighs.

His head lolled to the side, eyes half lidded, and he watched Riku sleep. His breath came harder, his hand speeding up slightly. Riku really was beautiful, ethereal and strong and so close, Sora could reach out and touch him too, and before he was aware of what he was doing his mouth had  formed the shape of his best friend’s name. He sighed it into the quiet of the room, and for a moment he thought he saw the boy twitch in response, maybe a tiny flash of aquamarine. 

It must’ve just been his imagination, though, because Riku didn’t stir otherwise, made no movement to sit up, to say Sora’s name in reply, to act disgusted at the sight of Sora’s hand down his pants. Sora swallowed back a moan, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. His pulse pounded in his neck. He flicked his thumb across his head, gathering the liquid there and spreading it across his length, his breath growing shallow as he neared his peak.

His bed springs creaked quietly beneath him as he shifted, his hips stuttering, his rhythm disappearing into something hard and fast and breathless. It was only a few more moments before he was coming, his hips arching upward as he spilled into his hand, Riku’s name leaving him once more in a strained gasp. He released himself, withdrawing his hand and relaxing back against his too-warm bed, his chest heaving as he gasped for breath, his fifth and final realization keeping him still.

He was in love with his best friend.

He, Sora, was in love with Riku, the boy he’d searched worlds to find. His best friend.

Oh. That... made a lot of sense, actually.

Sora reached blindly for a tissue from his nightstand, wiping his hand clean, his new realization simmering under his skin. He mulled the idea over as he cleaned himself off. By the time he’d thrown the tissues away, he’d mostly come to terms with the idea. He’d always loved Riku. It was no surprise that his love ran a little deeper than he’d first imagined.

Sora even smiled a little as he pulled his thin sheet over his flushed skin, rolling onto his side so he could watch Riku sleeping nearby. He could’ve done much worse, Sora supposed. The smile was still on his face as he fell back into a blissfully peaceful sleep.

* * *

_BONUS:_

_Riku groaned in mixed pain and relief as he sat up, adjusting himself and staring at Sora in absolute awe. Did he really just...? Was he dreaming?_

_And Sora had said his name..._

_He looked so beautiful while he..._

_Riku shook his head and forced his legs into action, stumbling blindly into Sora’s bathroom to fix his own problem. He’d worry about the new developments later, when he could think straight again._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't meant to be longer. This was supposed to be a oneshot. Meh. I am a beacon of sin.


End file.
